Althea had never taken to the cold during the winter months; especially when winter in Altair owned a mild season of its own. Sinking into the shallows of the water basin, she hugged her knees to her chest, grateful to absorb the waning heat of the bath water. The shelter that housed her was a rounded yurt, that showcased intricately detailed wooden pillars that surrounded her in the center to support the crown of the tent. The soft glow of the lantern rested a couple feet ahead of her, reminding Althea of some of Altair’s own bath houses that lay to each end of the city.
Althea was becoming accustomed to not thinking of her home back in Altair. However, in moments like these where the quiet outweighed the noise, she found the familiar tug of loneliness and longing settling into her chest. She sorely missed home, with the things and people she was familiar with. She had spent many hours on the back of that horse outlining every detail of her parent’s faces, and remembering the sounds of her small clinic, with its floors that creaked under her feet when she walked about it. Yet, that wasn’t stopping her mind from dampening the vivid picture she once had from fading.
A loud noise from the entrance of the tent startled her from her thoughts. She instinctively dove into the water, “Oh, Jesus!” she cried, hiding beneath the water's surface. Cahir moved silently along the edge of the tent, his frame seemed less burdened from the absence of his weapons and guard.
“That’s new.” His eyes remained attentive to the floor, “I’ve met a couple of Prophets, but none so outright zealous.”
Athea peeked over the edge of the basin, “What are you doing in here?”
Cahir chuckled, “For the sake of keeping up this charade, I need to have some veracity. For now you’ll have to tolerate my intrusion.” He was a strange man—Althea had decided this long before her tireless days with him. He was neither cruel nor kind, but every time she looked at him it was like he was fighting a war waging in his mind. The same stamped frown, and tired eyes were a trademark look for him.
People were complicated beings, but it would seem that Cahir had much more baggage than the average people.
Althea settled back into the basin, facing her back towards him. She allowed her right hand to float above the surface of the water. The bright red welt had now begun to fade into a soft pink. With her travels over with Katla, there was a new seed of worry that plagued Althea’s thoughts.
“When I meet your King, will I be killed?” A heaviness fell over between them, and she let out a restricted laugh, suddenly fearful of the answer. “Well...if he does, I’ve certainly made it easy for you. Besides me nearly killing myself on my own terms, I’ve been quite obedient, haven’t I?” She took a peek at the Knight in the corner of the yurt. His face was overwhelmed with shadows, but she could see the way his eyebrows were pulling together, and how the line of his lips were pressed flat with unease.
“Why do you ask?” Cahir had no solid proof that King Torvald would not be overcome with anger after seeing a living Prophet in front of him. For years the King sent orders to murder those that had the stamp of a Prophet; he made people from one Kingdom to another suffer due to his grief. However, he seemed formidable in his decision when he lifted the ban with concession from the other kingdoms. The days prior to the rescinding the law, rumors circulated of a political agreement between Vega and Eridani. The hearsay was squashed out as soon as the Prophet's were removed of their mark of odium.
Althea turned again in the basin, crossing her forearms across the its edge, “I heard he is a very fearsome King...and that he isn’t fond of people like me.”
Cahir nodded, “Fearsome he is, but I'm not inclined to tell you my thoughts on the matter. As obedient as you have been, if there was a chance, I suspect you would cause more trouble than you already have.”
She bit her lip, “In truth, I've thought about running one or twice before. But I've realized that everyday that I’m here with you, I’m breathing a little longer than if I was out there on my own. Being here has made me understand I am useless and weak without you, or even Katla.” She blinked hard forcing the tears back. She reached for the towel that sat on a stool near her basin, and wrapped herself in it as she stood. Althea stepped out from her bath, standing a few feet away from Cahir. “But, if I live before your King, I'm determined to learn my way around this world. If and when that happens, be prepared for me to run.”
Seeing Cahir’s face warmed by the light made his expression a little softer as he approached her. He didn’t stop until he stood right in front of her, a slight smile playing on his lips. Althea fought the urge to step back, unsure if this was intimidation, or if it was common for men to disregard a woman’s decency. He reached out his hand stopping it midway between the two of them. Althea shifted awkwardly to hold tightly to her towel as she reached out to shake his own.
“I look forward to that promise Althea. Now, let's get out of here quickly. Morning has nearly arrived, and we only have a few hours left back to Vega.” He released his grip on her hand, returning it back to his side. “I trust you can get dressed on your own?” An impish grin replaced the softened one.
“It would seem that I should have been more distrustful of you since you entered,” she joked.
His face sobered, his smile nearly a grimace. “Yes, perhaps.” He murmured, and turned away slowly to exit out of the yurt. Althea was left on her own in the center of the tent to catch her thoughts.
She could feel her face permeating heat. This was not the first time that he had seen her indecent, and it left her a little more than unsure of how to feel. He had no interest in her, but whether that was a bad or a good thing was certainly not something she would have ever thought she'd have to mull over on her own.
Althea walked across the length of the yurt, and aggressively picked up the folded clothes on the chest, still reeling. She dressed herself quickly, turning over the events that transpired between her and Cahir. The brown leather belt was difficult to cinch at her waist around the dark green wool of her dress. The material was heavy, but kept the warmth in relatively well. She slipped into the leather boots with wool socks, and laced them up tightly against her sore ankles.
The clothes were much warmer than the ones she had previously dawned, and when she stepped out into the early frost of the morning, the cold only nipped at her nose and cheeks. The sun peeked its head over the tops of the barren trees; a warm, orange glow kissed the earth of its shadows, creeping towards the camp.
The militant crowds were wide awake at dawn. They crowded in front of fires for their first serving of food, and others stood at attention on a poorly carved out road, blocking travelers for inquisition of entrance into the Arcturus border.
“My, we can finally see what was hiding behind all that blood and dirt, aye?” Startled, Althea quickly turned her head. Commander Fredreichs was sitting down on a slated box next to the entrance of the yurt. He was cutting a piece of bread with a jagged knife, and proceeding to stick it in his mouth.
Althea bowed her head slowly, “I wholeheartedly give my thanks for your kindness.”
“Certainly,” he spoke through a full mouth. He stood from his seat, the crumbs of bread falling to the floor. “It’s quite strange, you and your friend’s circumstances. Getting caught at the border of Vega, you must have been desperate to get away.”
He held the knife pinched between his fingers, waving it around. Althea pressed her palms against the belt on her stomach, calming the fluttering of nerves.
“It must be difficult for you to imagine that type of desperation, Commander.”
Commander Fredreichs sliced another piece of bread from the loaf in his hand, this time extending it to Althea. “I suppose hunger can drive someone to do something exceptionally extraordinary.” Althea took the piece from his knifed hand, “But unlike your friend, you look...well fed.”
Her jaw became slack with shock, before locking her jaw tightly against the humiliation building up in her cheeks. She did her best not to crush the food in her hand, and raised it to her mouth to rip a sizable piece off from the loaf with her teeth, mockingly. “Excuse me.” She mumbled through her food to walk off in search of familiar faces.
Boisterous laughter from the Commander doubled him over. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes in an attempt to regain composure. “Apologies miss, I should have been more clear.” He snorted, catching up in a matter of strides next to her. “I merely meant compared to those in Spica, you don’t look frail and starved.”
“Commander, I suggest you stop while you’re ahead.” Althea seethed., forcing a polite smile.
He smiled, amused. “I beg your pardon, I’m not as courtly as I once was. War has made me rather unrefined in recent years.”
“What have you done, Commander? I’ve never seen such a bitter face on my dear friend.” Katla appeared from behind Commander Fredreichs, positioning herself next to Althea. Her cheeks were tinged pink against her pale skin, nothing like the sickly girl Althea had rode with to the border here hours before.
The Commander gave Katla a look over, her elegant frame refreshed after a warm bath and new clothes. “That so?” He murmured, “For someone headed out to a sure death, you both are in good spirits.”
The girls exchanged uncomfortable looks, aware of the predicament they had walked themselves into. They were dealing with a well-known Commander, after all. He wasn’t intended to take lightly; he had always been known for his tactfulness in his approach to gain answers. When he stumbled upon this group, he was wary of their arrival. Even more suspicious was the idea of sending such a prized Knight like House Sidel’s Cahir to survey the border. Regardless of how disdained Cahir’s position was amongst King Torvald’s court, a lesser conjurer could have done the job the same.
Katla took a hold of Althea’s hand, “Someone from Arcturus wouldn’t understand. A titled highborn like you bred for a whorehound of a King--”
“Watch your mouth. I give you my food and my water, you will not insult His Majesty in my garrison.” The end of the blade marked pointedly at Katla’s throat. Althea pulled Katla away from the imminent danger, backing up from the Commander.
“Oye, Commander, I’m just calling it how I see it.” Katla raised her hands in defense.
The Commander sneered, “Enough! If it wasn’t for that Knight harboring your protection for his King, you would not be standing here. Leave before I lose my patience.”
Both women turned without argument and jogged towards the entrance of the encampment, “Shit, that was scary.” Katla gasped, turning back to scan for anyone in pursuit.
Althea frowned, “What on earth were you thinking? You could have gotten yourself killed.”
“He was asking too many questions, and I knew from our first meeting with him that he’s a man of loyalty. If I didn’t insult Arcturus’ King he wouldn’t be willing to let us free until he had his answers. We both know that can't happen.”
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